


good enough

by scheherazades



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazades/pseuds/scheherazades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when tessa remembers the disappointment she faced in 2006, she will remember that scott has never broken a promise to her, even if it took four years to fulfil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good enough

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is i hope somebody likes it lol

Going into Nationals, anyone you asked would believe Virtue and Moir were going to be on that plane to Italy in a few weeks. Sure, they only had junior international experience under their belts, but they were _special._ Something about them made the entire country stand up and take notice of them, and they were good. Good enough for the Olympics, even at only 16 and 18, they were mature beyond their years, talented beyond their experience. They were _ready_ for this.

Or so everyone thought.

They laid down three clean skates, the best of their season; three skates they could be intensely proud of. For a team only senior on the national level, with no senior international experience, they sure knew how to keep their nerve among the nation’s best skaters. They skated as though they’d been competing at this level much longer than they had been, no amount of pressure caused them to falter. They wanted that spot on the Olympic team just as much as any of the distinguished and more experienced senior teams, and they went after it with all they had.

But it wasn’t enough.

At the end of the day, while they’d given it their best shot, their best wasn’t good enough. The other teams deserved their spots, sure. But that’s not to say it didn’t hurt, sitting backstage in the dressing room, hands clasped together so tightly, not a word to be spoken between them, waiting and waiting and waiting, until the result came through. That was it. Their Olympic dream, their shining moment they only dared to _dream_ about was gone in a flash. Third place. Not good enough.

And god, did it hurt.

The official who delivered the news to them conveyed her condolences before quietly exiting the empty room, leaving the two of them to process the news. For a while, it was silent. Deadly silent, neither of them daring to say a word. What could they say, at this point? No amount of words, no combination of expressions was going to ease this.

Tessa stared blankly at the wall directly in front of them, hand still joined with Scott’s, her mind and heart racing. Numb, was the best way to describe her current state. She felt like this was an out of body experience, and she couldn’t find a way to get back to it. The silence was deafening, and it wasn’t until her mother and older sister walked into the room, ready to express their sympathies that she felt anything at all.

The warm and comforting hugs of her family was all that it took for her to break. She exhaled, slowly, shakily, before she let out a gut wrenching sob that broke her mother’s heart. Tessa was her baby, her youngest and in some ways the strongest of her children, and to see her so visibly upset was awfully hard. Tessa was prone to bottling up her emotions, to keeping any hurt to herself, to not sharing the burden of her problems with anyone, not even Scott most of the time. To release it at all, even if in the form of crying it out, was big for her.

The disappointment she felt was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She didn’t know how she was supposed to handle herself, or this whole situation, and by the looks of things, neither did Scott. She hoped they could at least figure it out together. Disappointed they may be, but she couldn’t lose him now.

But for that moment, disappointment and heartache and the feeling of _not good enough_ took over.

So she cried. Of course she cried, that’s the expected reaction when you’re hurt, right?

She cried out of disappointment, she cried for the loss of a dream, she cried for them, and she cried because of that age old tale of _not good enough, not the right time, not ready._

When she looks back on this day in years to come, she will remember bawling in the arms of her mother and her sister, sure. She will recall how she cried and cried and cried for all the disappointment she felt, and she will recall thinking that she could not go another four years; it was too hard.

She will remember the comforting words of her mother, reminding her she is still only 16, and this, whilst incredibly upsetting, would not be the end of the world, or the end of her career. She was young, _they_ were young, and they had _time._ She doesn’t think she recalls a 16 year old ice dancer at the Olympics, anyway.

She will remember the tight squeezes of her sister who promised they would have a day to do whatever it was she wanted to do sometime, to help her forget this feeling. She will remember how she also reminded her she was good enough, and she was still her baby sister. She wasn’t _ready_ for the pressure of the Olympics.

But she will also remember, most poignantly, how she dismissed her mother and sister and their words of comfort for now, to find comfort in her partner, whom she noticed quietly slipped out after the tears started. She will remember how she found him sitting quietly, alone, in an empty change room and how she offered a watery, half smile when he looked up at the sound of someone entering.

She will remember how she sat down next to him, clasped his hand in hers, rested her head on his shoulder, make up thoroughly ruined, and offered her words of wisdom.

                “We’re still young, we have time.” She says, staring absently at the wall in front of them.

                “Yeah.” He simply sighs as a reply. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not disappointed, Tess. It’s just me.”

                “I just…I thought we were ready. I thought we were good enough. We _are_ good enough. Why aren’t we on that team, Scott? We _deserved_ this.”

                “Don’t cry, T. We’re gonna be okay.” He kisses the side of her head, arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her impossibly closer.

                “What if we can’t hold out for another 4 years? It’s so _hard,_ Scott, I don’t think I can do it. This was supposed to be our chance.”

                “Don’t think like that. We _can_ do this. I promise you, Tessa, 4 years from now, this will be forgotten, and we _will_ be on that Vancouver team. I promise you right now.”

                “You can’t know that. You can’t promise any of that.” She let a few absent tears roll down her cheeks, and looked him straight in the eye upon his request.

                “Listen to me. C’mon, look at me. I can _absolutely_ promise you, this second, that in four years, wherever nationals may be, we’ll be in a completely different position. We’ll be four years older, wiser. 4 more years to train and come up with the perfect programme. We have _so much time,_ Tessa, we can do it all. Don’t cry.” He reached out to wipe her tears and she offered a hesitant, but real smile. “Want me to pinkie promise?”

With a roll of her eyes, she held out her pinkie finger and linked it with his. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

                “Sure. But hey, whatever works. I hereby swear that you and I will absolutely be going to the Vancouver Olympics, and we’ll go as Canadian national champions. Pinkie promise.”

***

They watch the Olympics from their homes, and it is hard to take, because even then, they still feel they should be the ones competing, not watching from their couches. But eventually, the disappointment subsides, and motivation takes over. They train better, harder, stronger.

When she looks back on that moment, four years later, she will smile, because she will realise that even if it had taken four years to fulfil, Scott Moir had not once broken a promise to her.

They, of course, as Scott had promised, go to Vancouver as Canadian champions. They go to Vancouver with a partnership that is stronger than ever, with a programme they _know_ is made for gold. They go to Vancouver _expecting_ to win, and it is the most glorious feeling in the world when the expectation becomes reality; when reality is even better than the expectation.

When they stand on the top of the podium, he whispers into her ear. “I told you we’d make it. When will you have any faith in me, Tessa Virtue?”

She grins, like a child with a secret, and she is almost bouncing on the spot waiting to receive her medal.

For every sacrifice, for all disappointment they ever faced, for all the pain she went through, for all the pain she was still in, _this moment_ was worth it all.

She would have to learn to trust in Scott’s promises, and learn that she was _plenty_ good enough. She would always be good enough for him.


End file.
